


Caught in the middle (of a lie)

by dy_n_m



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alternate Universe, Armageddon happened, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Im sorry- not sorry, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Multi, rated m to be safe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-01
Updated: 2019-07-01
Packaged: 2020-05-31 17:11:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19430425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dy_n_m/pseuds/dy_n_m
Summary: The Apocalypse happened. Was happening. Ten thousand angels and demons fought on Earth, the War ongoing with no end in sight. The Antichrist was nowhere to be found after what happened, and the unlucky human survivors had to deal with supernatural forces destroyed their planet.And then there were Aziraphale and Crowley, stuck in the middle of it all and desperate to find a solution. That is if they manage to find each other first.





	Caught in the middle (of a lie)

**Author's Note:**

> TW: Implicit torture and violence, suicidal thoughts.
> 
> What if Adam kept on going even when his friends and Dog ran away? What if the Apocalypse happened? Well, let's find out together, shall we?

Crowley ran, ran and then he flew. His black wings were spread out wide, the impressive span of it caught the moonlight. He flew, and the night kept him concealed. 

His eyes, hidden behind the pair of sunglasses, scanned the land beneath him. Ruined, what was left of buildings and houses were no better than the next pile of rocks. Trees without its green leaves and flowers nowhere to be found, already died and rotted. 

What was Earth was reminding him of Hell. It was depressing, muted, sad.

He flew.

His Bentley had already burnt away, exploded. The demon mourned the loss of his chariot, something that he had a very soft spot too.

His angel was missing, he hadn’t seen Aziraphale after what happened in the airbase. If it wasn’t for the sliver of Grace he could pinpoint in the wide world, he would have assumed Aziraphale had died…

He came here, to Earth, to escape Hell at first then to be with Aziraphale latter. Now, what was the point without those? He considered stopping his wings and let his body plummeted down to the cold ocean that might have been blessed by the angels – smartass they were, but stopped his brain before it could get there.

Aziraphale was still here, and he would never leave his friend. Not during a time like this. 

Now only if he could find the angel first, without getting utterly destroyed by the other side. As long as he could concentrate, could keep up the facade a little longer and let them believe in the Crowley that brought the Spanish Inquisition and World War 2 into existence it would all be tickety-boo.

As long as he stopped thinking about what he lost, what he could have, Aziraphale _Aziraphale_ _Aziraphale-_ the name repeated in his head like a mantra, how could he really stop thinking about the angel?

The darkness of the night offered no answer nor comfort, and the demon mourned. 

_And he flew._

* * *

Aziraphale landed, his wings shook themselves off the dust of a long journey. The angel frowned at the land around him, all destroyed into smithereens, ashes of civilization, of centuries of development. 

It was devastating and cruel and he wondered why had it happened. Why had Heaven felt this low, to do this? And why had God allowed this?

The angel dusted off the dirt from his new suit, no longer the lovely coat he had kept in tip-top condition since the 1800s. It was replaced with a military uniform now, proper with its buttons and strings. 

It was bloody restraining, that's what.

The angel walked, steps careful of the traps that might have been set here. He sidestepped carcasses, burnt and melted and cut and sliced with a painful look on his face. He thought of flying past all of this, it would certainly make his job easier, but he would need the energy later.

And so Aziraphale braved through a literal cemetery, a massacre, muttering sorry under his breath to the bodies no matter how unrecognizable they were, no matter which side they were on.

Heaven, Hell or Humanity, it didn’t matter once you have died now, did it?

Or perhaps, the angel thought, they were the lucky ones. At least they wouldn’t have to see this scene.

Aziraphale walked faster, ignoring the crunch of bones under his shoes. No matter how hard he tried, the bodies kept piling up until there was no clear ground to see but this sea of corpses that he walked on.

Aziraphale continued.

* * *

The shouting just kept on going, Crowley thought, standing in front of the room with a two-way mirror implemented. He saw one of the demon, someone so insignificant he could not bother to learn the name, tortured an angel.

He tried hard to not think of Aziraphale stuck in this exact position. His angel was alive, but the word left much room to wiggle. 

Crowley sucked in a breath as a particular ear-splitting scream came, nearly shattering the mirror from the angel. Well, to be fair, he would probably scream like that when he was at the end of those whips. 

He sighed and walked away from the scene. He couldn’t bear to see this any longer, and Crowley had a feeling he would need at least ten bottles of whiskeys to wash the memories away. 

And he would have gone to get them right now if it wasn’t for the sight of Hastur walking toward him. Oh well, here we go again, and Crowley put on his best smile.

“Hail Satan!” He greeted, and couldn’t help but compare this to a particular war Hell thought he had caused. He had the uniform and all, meticulously made to fit his lanky body and a symbol proud on his arm of the flipped star.

“Crowley! Where are you going?” Hastur asked, and Crowley noted how cheerful the guy was now. Well, at least someone was enjoying this. “You’re not staying for the show?”

“Hmm, Nah.” He shrugged, his head trying to bullshit up an excuse “Got better things to do than watching that boring show. Whips, really? Pfft, amateur hour.”

That answer seemed to satisfy Hastur when the white-haired demon nodded, agreeing with him. G– Sa– Somebody, Hastur was agreeing with him of all people. “Well, off you go then.”

He left with a half-hearted wave and a “Ciao!”, as he always did. Best to keep up the appearance, Crowley thought to himself, stay where he was supposed to be and try his best to secure this high up position he had. 

He had a feeling he being the one who mainly responsible for plunging Armageddon into existence would pull a lot of weight around here. Well, he reasoned, let them think what they want. It wasn’t like he was trying to stop it or something.

* * *

Let the angels assume what they want, Aziraphale thought, looking at the burning flame. The burning flame of his sword – they had given him a new one as a commendable gift for bringing the Apocalypse here, but they didn’t know the full story that happened at the airbase now, did they?

What happened was that Aziraphale failed. He failed and now Armageddon was here and he was somewhere in Europe without Crowley by his side.

Aziraphale sighed and looked up at the sky. He wished he had taken Crowley’s offer to run away together to the star, but Heaven and Hell would find them sooner or later. Now was not the time for wishful thinking, but still, he wondered.

Aziraphale seethed his sword, the flame disappearing and plunging the world around him back to darkness. And Aziraphale continued trampling on the corpses of his brothers, his enemies, and strangers. 

He had made considerable length now after his third day of travel, and the destination was all the closer for him. And if the angels thought he was merely a messenger or maybe a hunter, well let them think so. He was, after all, hunting for something. 

Or should he say, someone?

* * *

“Should I send someone?” Beelzebub asked him, with zir eyebrow curved up expecting an answer. “Your side has been doing well, yes?”

“Oh yeah, totally fine, nothing to worry about,” Crowley answered quickly, a hand waving vaguely in the air. “You know how it is, winning against the angels and destroying them. Did quite a number yesterday actually.”

They did, he did. Surprising the angels with an onslaught of Hellfire and sigils and bindings, captured and tortured, captured and killed. They did, no, Crowley did it all. It was his plan, the soldiers were under his command.

His fault.

“Good, I expect a report on my desk soon. And I’m sure you will certainly deliver–” The lord of fly said glee in zir voice as ze leaned in closer to the monitor. “General Crowley~! Dismissed.”

He snapped his TV off without even a goodbye.

* * *

He left without even a goodbye, Aziraphale remembered, after the airbase. He was in a reminiscent mood, and yet despite all their time together, six thousand years were forgotten in favor of what happened at the airbase.

The memories were blurry despite it only happening a year ago, and all he could remember was a sense of panic, then fear, and hopelessness. He remembered Crowley, kneeling under the Antichrist, begging for his life.

He remembered lightning, and then Gabriel’s purple eyes. His voice, encouraging and exciting and sounded wrong to his ear. “Good job, I know you could do it Aziraphale!” He congratulated, and Aziraphale nodded with a strained smile.

He could not stop Armageddon, he could not and now all lives on Earth payed. He turned his back to Gabriel, to Heaven, with a wave that he learned from Crowley.

“I will just be getting my, uh, uniform then come back later, yes?” He came up with a pathetic lie, he was certain Crowley could have done so much better in his position. Then he ran, ignoring Gabriel.

He was running, Aziraphale noted, how the world was shifting beside him, as bodies blurred into one that he was running as he spoke. Or as he thought, would be more accurate. The angel, who didn’t know what else to do, ran.

**Author's Note:**

> That was so fun to write for something pretty much out of the comfort zone, so uh let me know what you think of this? It was pretty weird tbh, but oh well.
> 
> Undetermined update schedule, but aiming for once a week if only to keep me writing and not just lazying around. so maybe see you next Monday :D


End file.
